A/N: Feedback is LOVE

Justin was on the precipice, on the edge of heaven and hell. The crowd just kept growing in size, volume, and motion. But Brian was working hard to counteract the subsequent stress.

Truth be told, once Brian had beaten the worst of the panic attack back, Justin had managed to keep it at bay on his own. But Brian hadn't realized that, so he was diligently working Justin's body like an instrument, a sexy, sexy instrument. And this was infuriating Mikey, which pleased Justin to no end. So Justin let Brian caress, lick, kiss, bite, and suck on various parts of his body. And Brian hit most of them. Every inch of Justin's upper body and anything within a hand's grasp below that (which, to Justin's delight, included both his dick and his butt). Brian wasn't shy at all. He slid his hands beneath Justin's clothes and even inside Justin.

By the time they made into the building, Mikey had nearly rolled his eyes out of his head and was sighing so loudly and so frequently, it almost sounded like Brian was working HIM over. And Justin was so hard, so turned on, that they didn't go 5 feet before Justin pulled Brian into the nearest dark corner and whisper-growled, "I need you inside me. Now." Fortunately, Babylon was especially dark that night (due to the special event – studs and suds) and everyone was headed to the main dance floor. That's where the action was. Even better, the bubbles gave them some cover. The end result was that Justin could very easily forget that he and Brian were not alone.

Emmett rubbed Mikey's back and guided him onto the dance floor.

Justin spun around (Brian had had his arms around Justin's waist, his mouth on Justin's neck, his right hand in Justin's pants, and his dick pressed up against Justin's ass), grabbed Brian's hands, threaded their fingers together, and walked backwards.

Brian grinned. His eyes were dancing. He drawled, "So how we doing this?"

Justin smiled nervously. He wasn't sure what Brian meant.

Brian raised both eye brows and shot Justin a sultry look. When Justin hit wall, Brian placed his hands against the wall above Justin's head and leaned over him. He let his head fall. His lips were millimeters from Justin's. "The teenage virgin and the slightly older smoking hot lothario? The hustler and the married 'heterosexual' out of town on business? OR the bi-curious writer desperate for experience and the gay gay gay go-go dancer?"

Justin laughed merrily but his eyes held vulnerability. "You'd really play a go-go dancer?"

Brian shrugged. "There are only two moves that matter." He gyrated his hips and then thrust them forward.

Justin laughed nervously. His face flushed. He whispered, "You do that really well."

Brian drawled, "I do EVERYTHING well."

Justin was suddenly breathless. A strange idea had surfaced. So strange he was almost ashamed to utter it. His voice dropped. "What about a closeted football player and a pretty clearly but not really out gay artist?"

Brian froze. His throat was suddenly dry. He swallowed, but said nothing. He wasn't sure how to respond.

Justin paled. A cold flush washed over him. He started massaging the spot on his right hand in between his thumb and index finger. "You're angry because you want, no you NEED, to fuck this artist, but you 'know' it's wrong. You're not supposed to want that. To need that. It could be quick and rough. A hate fuck." Justin felt dizzy. He made sure to breathe in and out slowly and he started consciously relaxing the muscles in his shoulders.

"If you want to do closeted high schoolers, why not Aidan and James, the early years?"

Justin smiled faintly. "Because in that scenario, they're falling in love. Chris doesn't love Justin. He kind of hates him. Still … he wants to fuck him."

Brian just stared at Justin. He had no clue what to say.

"Please, Brian."

Brian still had his hands against the wall. He clenched and unclenched his right hand, twice, all the while looking into Justin's eyes. They held determination and need. Brian didn't know what game they were playing, whether this was dangerous, therapeutic, or both, but he couldn't NOT. Justin had asked him 'please.' So he stood up straight (he'd been leaning before) and glared at Justin. He grabbed Justin roughly, spun him around, and shoved him against the wall. He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down. He leaned his cheek against Justin's and whisper-growled, "Pull down your pants."

Justin's hands shook, but he did as he was told.

Brian pressed his erection (which he was ashamed hadn't deflated at this point) against Justin's crack. "Is this what you want? You want a guy to fuck you in the ass?"

Justin half-moaned, half-croaked, "Yes. Fuck me."

Brian didn't use any lube. And he didn't hesitate or go slow. He grabbed Justin's hips HARD and thrust his entire dick inside rough and fast. Justin cried out softly, involuntarily. Just once. Brian leaned his forehead against the back of Justin's neck and pounded Justin's ass like he was desperate to cum as quickly as possible. Justin grunted softly, but didn't cry out. Brian hissed, "You like that?"

Justin half-grunted, half-whispered, "Yes. I always thought you were hot. Barrel chested … broad shoulders. When I saw you tackling guys on the football field, I wanted to be one of them. I wanted you to ram me just as hard."

Brian slid his hands up to Justin's shoulders. "I'm about to shoot my load inside of you. Jerk off."

Justin breathed in and out and then grabbed his dick. It was covered with precum. He started pumping it. His breathing grew ragged.

Brian growled, "Faster."

Justin complied. When Justin pressed his forehead against the wall and moaned, Brian started fucking Justin harder and faster, slid his hands from Justin's shoulders to his neck, and squeezed, once very hard. Brian came with a shout. He quickly released Justin's neck and hissed, "Tell anyone about this and you're dead."

Brian stood up straight and pulled up and fastened his jeans. Otherwise, he didn't move. Justin spun around and leaned on the wall while pulling up his pants. He was grinning. Brian just stared, expressionless. He was a little horrified and very worried. Justin reached up, grabbing Brian by the neck and pulling his face down. Then he pushed his tongue into Brian's mouth and kissed him passionately. Not exactly passionately. More like with an animal hunger. Brian was still worried, but he couldn't help but respond. He wrapped his arms around Justin's waist and pulled him closer even as he deepened the kiss. The kiss was weird for Brian (and Justin, too). Justin could feel Brian's fear, his need to hold on, to pull Justin closer. After a couple of minutes, Justin broke the kiss and threw his arms around Brian's neck, burying his face in Brian's chest. Brian held Justin tight and even rubbed Justin's back with one hand.

Justin was crying but silently. Brian could feel wetness on an exposed portion of his chest.

Justin held on for a few minutes, but then stood up straight. He blinked away the tears and smiled. "I'm going to see Chris tomorrow. And I finally know what story I'm going to write next."

Brian's eyes widened.

Justin nodded (as though answering a question Brian had asked telepathically). "Yup. I'm going to write about me in high school. I'll fictionalize it though. Maybe I'll use your teenage virgin and slightly older lothario idea."

Brian snapped. "Why the FUCK would you want to waste any time thinking about that?"

"The only way to banish a ghost is to turn on the lights."

Brian ran his hands through Justin's hair and then kissed Justin gently on the lips. "You're amazing." Brian smiled a mocking smile, but his eyes were soft and held vulnerability. "When I grow up, I want to be just like you."

Justin shook his head and smiled. "IF you grow up … I've seen your toy chest."

Brian swung Justin in front of him and wrapped his arms around Justin's chest. Then he guided him forward to where Emmett and Mikey were standing. A journey of about 50 feet. Along the way, about 30 people stared, eyes wide and mouth gaping or eyes narrowed and lips pursed. When they reached Emmett and Mikey, Justin asked, "Brian? Do I have something on my face? Or on my shirt?"

Brian played dumb. He stepped in front of Justin and looked him up and down. "Nope."

"Then why is everyone staring at me like I've got three heads or something?"

Emmett piped up, "I can answer that. Brian's never had a boyfriend before." He laughed smugly. "The HUNDREDS of men Brian fucked (well that are currently here) are trying to figure out what you have that they don't. Everyone else is plotting your ouster, so they can get their shot at the stud of Liberty Avenue. Or wondering whether you are (and desperately hoping you're not) monogamous."

"Ah. Well, I guess that's better than having cum in my hair."